


The Day Sherlock Forgot His Trousers

by JimTheOmega



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Random Schmoop, Silly Ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JimTheOmega/pseuds/JimTheOmega
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock asks John to meet him in a designated spot, and shows up hours later, without trousers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Day Sherlock Forgot His Trousers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HoneyYouShouldSeeMeInACrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyYouShouldSeeMeInACrown/gifts).



> This was a small very, very short drabble, inspired by a photo my RP partner, Robyn, sent me during her trip to London.

Bloody fucking hell. How on earth did John end up here again? He was told, hours ago, that he was to meet up with his flatmate, just a few blocks away from Baker Street. Grumbling, he complied, since this was one of his few days off from the surgery anyhow. That didn't explain why he had to bloody wait for two and a half hours longer outside the designated building. Finally, he caught sight of Sherlock crossing the street, coat collar turned up, and head held high in his usual confidence. Though, something was off about him. John raked his eyes over the approaching body before the obvious smacked him in the face. _Jesus Christ._

"Evening, Watson." he greeted coolly. 

"You were supposed to be here hours ago, and good god, where the hell are your trousers, Sherlock?!" he threw up his hands, as he often did when he was in the middle of a fit.

Sherlock hummed and stared down at his legs. He'd remembered pants, thank god. Shoes and socks were in order as well. The detective blinked before closing his coat around himself and shrugging. "I suppose I forgot to put them on this morning." Now that John had pointed it out, his legs did feel a tad chilly.

"Forgot? _You_ , the amazing, genius detective, forgot your _trousers_ at home?" John's mouth was hung open slightly. "How did you not notice that? It's fucking cold out here!" He'd worn his own thick parka today, zipped up to his chest.

Sherlock just shrugged once more. "Too lost in thought to notice such a thing, I suppose." he brushed off.

"You're going to get yourself killed, if you keep that up!" he tugged on his arm. "Come on. We need to get you home and some trousers, before you further embarrass yourself." he hailed a cab and practically shoved the taller man inside.

"I suppose that's why Anderson was staring at me."Sherlock hummed. "Lestrade kept laughing while I was telling him just how those three women died and ended up in a trunk." he crossed his legs, the fabric of the coat riding up and exposing his long legs. "And here I thought he thought triple homicide was a comedy for him." his own lips turned up a bit.

John couldn't help the break of a smile. "You know you are an insufferable git, right?" he patted Sherlock's thigh, a chuckle bubbling up now. "It's more like I'm watching over a five - year - old sometimes." 

Sherlock's gaze locked with John's, smiling never leaving his face. "And yet, here we are."

The shorter man shook his head, snorting, and gazed out the window to their upcoming flat. 

"Here we are indeed."


End file.
